


All Your Pain, All Your Pleasure

by sins_not_tragedies



Series: Fade To Black [2]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: BDSM, Banter, Begging, Bottom Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Canon Dialogue, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Femdom, Getting Back Together, Megaera is a Good Domme, Mentioned Thanatos (Hades Video Game), Missing Scene, Mutual Masturbation, Naked Male Clothed Female, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Whipping, spoilers for romance route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29418174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sins_not_tragedies/pseuds/sins_not_tragedies
Summary: "Meg...what a surprise...! Again. What is it?" Zagreus says. It's the second time she's appeared in his room since his escape attempts began. Something seems markedly different this time. "...What's the matter?"(Filling in that fade-to-black scene.)
Relationships: Megaera/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Series: Fade To Black [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2110395
Comments: 2
Kudos: 67





	All Your Pain, All Your Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! I guess I should've referenced Eros in this one.
> 
> This is the companion piece to the Thanatos fade-to-black fic I wrote.
> 
> I love these idiots.

Orpheus is mid-song when Zagreus returns to the House, lyre and singing drowning out any conversation Zagreus might otherwise have with his father or Achilles. Nyx is absent from her usual post, too, and Zagreus resigns to not getting any conversation before his next run. So he dashes down the hall with reckless abandon, kicking up flames in his wake, already deciding which weapon to take next as he makes for his room. He skids to a halt in the doorway.

Megaera is standing between him and the exit, hand resting impatiently on her hip. "I need to trouble you for something, Zag." 

"Meg...what a surprise...! Again. What is it?" Zagreus says. It's the second time she's appeared in his room since his escape attempts began. Something seems markedly different this time. "...What's the matter?" 

Megaera doesn't respond. She's holding her whip at her side, hand twitching slightly. Zagreus tries to place the expression she's wearing: it's not _angry_ , thank the gods, but it's certainly intense. Her yellow eyes are sharp, cunning.

 _Hungry_. That's the word for that expression.

"Wait. Why are you looking at me like that?" Zagreus asks. She's in his room, whip in hand. She's not angry.

"Shut up already, Zagreus. And come here," Megaera demands, tapping the handle of her whip against her palm. 

She's in his room, whip in hand. She's not angry. She's not wearing her armored shoulder pieces. Her pink lips are pursed, ever-so-subtley quirked up at the corners. Zagreus knows that look. It clicks.

"...I...you really..." He swallows as she points the butt of her whip at the ground in front of her. "... _oh_."

Zagreus walks over in a daze. "...Whew, well, now, um, where was I..." he says absentmindedly, head fogging up like hot breath on glass. 

Megaera's keen, practiced glare sets Zagreus' nerves alight in the most wonderful way possible. His skin crawls deliciously.

Oh, he missed this.

Zagreus is standing in front of her now, just back from her outstretched arm. 

Mouth dry and tongue half-numb, he tries for a quip. "So, um, how will you have me?"

"Strip," Megaera orders, before he's even done asking. Her voice has taken on the deep, commanding quality that turns Zagreus to putty. 

He practically trips over himself in his rush to undress, skull adornments and armor clattering to the floor in a pile. His chiton falls off easily enough, haphazardly tucked in as it was. He tries to pull down and kick off his leggings in an efficent manner, but his foot gets caught, leaving him off-balance. After a brief moment spent fighting the fabric of his pants and the pull of gravity, Zagreus stumbles and collapses in a heap.

Megaera lets out a chuckle and lowers her whip. Zagreus' attempts at shimmying out of his leggings come to a standstill.

His heart swells. He made her _laugh_.

"M-Megaera?" he asks despite himself.

She grins, unfurling her whip. "You're cute, Zag, I'll give you that."

Zagreus watches, beaming, as the long pink ribbon falls to the floor. His blood boils, flaring up his firey laurels like a freshly stoked hearth.

Megaera gestures to the ground at her feet. "On your knees."

He finishes kicking off his pants and crawls over with a haste that would make Hermes proud, picking up a slight rugburn on his knees in the process.

Zagreus kneels obediently, hands on his knees, the flames from his feet licking up the small of his back, whole body thrumming with hot blood.

" _Tsch_ ," Megaera scoffs, eyeing him pointedly. "You're half hard already."

The scorn pulses heat through his system.

"I missed this. I missed _you_ , Meg. Can you blame me?" Zagreus asks, spreading his legs a little.

"I ought to gag you," she snaps back. "Might be a good idea regardless, considering you don't have a door."

"You'd never. You like our banter too much."

Megaera takes a stride forward and grabs Zagreus by the jaw, digging pink nails into flushed skin. 

"Test me," she says, eyes narrowed, captivating. Her piercings catch the light and shine like gold.

After a moment she releases him and straightens up. Megaera towers over him; he has to crane his neck to look up at her.

"Do you remember your safeword?" Megaera asks, tone briefly devoid of sharp edges.

She's nothing if not principled. Zagreus blinks and nods.

"'Harpy'," he recalls. Not that he'd ever need it. In all their time together, Zagreus hadn't used it once. Megaera knew his limits and exactly how to test them. 

"So there is a brain in that thick skull of yours. I was beginning to doubt it." She adjusts her stance, straight-backed and powerful, now that she has his confirmation.

"Is my skull the only thing that's thick?" he teases, leaning back on his heels to better present himself.

"Shut up," she shoots back with an annoyed sneer, spinning the whip in her hand.

Zagreus licks his lips. "Make me."

The whip cracks. It's a warning shot, barely nicking his right thigh, a mere taste of things to come. But Zagreus is so primed to that bite that he has to shut his eyes to resist the shudder that comes over him.

He's a little dizzy as he blinks them open. Megaera glares at him, muscles tensed and ready to strike him again.

"Have you forgotten your place, brat?" she asks through gritted teeth. "Or do you need a reminder?"

Zagreus draws in a shaky breath, trying to slow himself down; they're just getting started. "I could probably use a refresher, Miss Megaera."

Her whip snaps again, a pink blur, too fast to track. The hit is direct this time. Having crawled out of the Styx mere moments before, the red stripe across his chest is the first mark this body has taken.

He bites back a groan.

"You're pathetic," Megaera spits. "Put your hands behind your back so I have a clear shot at you."

"A-Are you going to tie me up?" Zagreus asks, voice betraying his excitement. His wrists itch for the burn of tight rope.

Her eyes narrow. "No. You're going to learn some self-control if it damn well kills you."

The irony isn't lost on him. "Yes, ma'am."

Zagreus clasps his hands behind his back obediently, drawing his shoulderblades together to press his chest forward. For good measure, he tilts his head back slightly, fully exposing his throat.

"Good," Megaera says.

The single word of praise cuts Zagreus to his core like a hot knife.

Megaera continues as she winds up her whip. "Do you know how many tries it took you to beat me, Zag?"

"Um...two?" he guesses baselessly.

"Four. You died to my whip three times, and beat me on the fourth," she corrects him. "Do you know how many times you've defeated me?"

"You've been...keeping count?" Zagreus asks, and guilt immediately twists his stomach. Of course she's been keeping count. 

If she's upset at his oversight, she doesn't indicate it. "Thirty-six."

"Thirty-six," he repeats. He wants to keep track of that number.

"It seems you have trouble with numbers, so I'll try to make this easy for you," she says sardonically. "I've struck you twice already. That brings the total down to thirty-four. Do you think you can count to thirty-four for me?"

Zagreus eyes the hot pink coil of the whip. He swallows. "Uh. Yeah. I think I can do that."

"Good. Now sit still."

Megaera draws her whip back with a practiced flourish. The wind-up isn't the same as when they're fighting; there's more show in this, more luxuriation in the subtlety of the movement rather than the force behind it. Zagreus relishes in the small motions, the flex of her muscles and the focus in her eyes. Proof that he's worthy of her focus.

_Crack._

The Fury's whip cuts across his chest. Pain radiates through him, diffusing into a low, building heat.

" _One_ ," Zagreus gasps.

 _Two, three, four_ in quick succession **—** light strikes to his thighs. Her precision is impressive. 

Zagreus surrenders to the whip, leaning into hits _five_ through _eight_ as much as he is flinching at them. His palms are damp with sweat. His vision blurs, to pink and blue and _Megaera_ , tall and powerful and beautiful.

He loses count around _twelve,_ a particularly hard flog across his back that will certainly bruise. Instead of speaking, he's left agape, panting, taking the hits like the glorious gifts that they are. His eyes squeeze shut.

Megaera gives an amused scoff and takes over counting. Her voice rings loud and clear in his ears, a grounding accompaniment for the crack of the whip. She knows how to keep him engaged, setting and breaking a rhythm, alternating passive _thwips_ with more solid strikes.

She places the marks intentionally, lovingly, criss-crosses of pleasure and pain against Zagreus' semi-immortal flesh. Enough to hurt but not maim. It's a fine balance, one that her _thirty-second_ hit tests. The strike knocks the wind out of Zagreus.

"Thirty-three," Megaera says evenly with a grazing flick to his thigh, as she circles back around to his front.

"Thirty- _four_."

The final strike is across his chest, a red streak from his shoulder to the bottom of his ribcage.

Though the blows have stopped, Zagreus continues shaking, taking in heaving breaths and letting the stinging burn settle in his skin. He tastes salt, and slowly puts together that there are tears streaming down his face. He blinks his eyes open, clearing them.

Megaera is standing over him, considering him closely with gleaming eyes. The rapid rise and fall of her chest indicates her shared enjoyment in their game.

Zagreus straightens up, wincing slightly. Pink and red marks cut across his pale skin. A wonderful testament to Megaera's strength and sureness; physical evidence that he is worth her effort. Bruised and bloodied, Zagreus grins.

Megaera extends a hand and cards through his hair approvingly. "You counted to twelve. I'm impressed."

She's _impressed_. Zagreus nuzzles into her palm, trying to catch her hand in his burning laurels. She withdraws, his obvious enthusiasm acting as consent to continue.

"Now that you're all warmed up," Megaera smirks, holstering her whip, "we can work on that self-control."

"That was one hell of a warm-up," Zagreus remarks as he turns to face her, still on his knees, wrists still crossed behind his back.

"Did I say you could talk, brat?" she asks rhetorically. The commanding tone sends a thrill up Zagreus' spine. "Shut up, or I might just walk out."

He bites his lip. He shuts up.

Megaera produces a bottle of nectar from somewhere in the folds of her chiton-- perhaps one of the very bottles Zagreus gifted her. She swirls the nectar in its vial.

Megaera stares Zagreus directly in his two-toned eyes and makes a crystal-clear demand:

"Touch yourself."

She punctuates it by uncorking the nectar.

Zagreus flushes, the flames at his feet and crown blazing bright and hot as arousal surges through him. He lets out a low, needy sound, and presents his hands.

She pours about half of the honey-colored substance across his palms and down his front before pulling away.

The holy drink heals his wounds as it drips down his front. A pleasurable tingling blossoms across his palms and torso wherever the nectar wets his skin. 

Megaera rakes her eyes up and down his naked, wounded body. She sits on his recently upgraded bed and reaches for her hair piece. 

Zagreus watches in silent awe as she lets down her ponytail. The long, lilac hair spills in a curtain around her shoulders, settling just past her chest. He hasn't seen her hair down in ages. Not since...

"Well, Zagreus?" Megaera interrupts his wistful admiration. "Give me something to watch."

Divine crown ablaze, face flushed crimson, Zagreus obliges. He has to start slow, wound up tight as he is. 

Zagreus squeezes one of his pecs, using the pad of the thumb to trace gently around his nipple, a contrast to the punishing blows he's taken so far. He runs his other hand down his front, through the golden drink spilled across his skin; a careful exploration of his own torso, the rapidly-healing strikes and the tensed muscles underneath them. 

His heartbeat is quick. Megaera hasn't laid a hand on him, but her voice and her whip have him fully erect and aching.

Zagreus peeks up at Megaera for approval, or disapproval; her eyes are fixed on him, face stoic, but she nods.

Zagreus gives himself a feather-light cursory stroke, taking the opportunity to spread his thighs wider. The tremor that hits him is enough that he gives up circling his nipple and uses the free hand for balance instead, leaning back on the arm for stability as he continues.

He curls his fingers into a loose circle and slicks himself up, barely granting himself friction. His eyes shut in focus, brow pinching together as he struggles to keep his urges in check.

He arches into the loose fist, chasing the sensation, biting down hard on his lower lip to keep quiet as he keeps going. His pumps start slow, as teases, spurring himself forward until he can't help but tighten his grip and speed up. 

Zagreus opens his red-black eye to catch a glimpse of himself and of Megaera, hoping with all his heart that he's living up to her expectations. He's closer than he'd like to be, chest heaving, cock leaking, but he can't slow down, approaching his own edge, hand moving of its own accord now. Megaera is leaned back on the bed, peering down at him. Her piercing gaze drives him on, touching him in its own way.

His rhythm goes erratic fast. He's panting, head lolling back as he loses himself to the heat and wet of his own damn hand, while Megaera the Fury looks on approvingly.

Zagreus' burning toes curl and his thighs clench, thoughts turned to an incoherent lustful mist. He's teetering on the precipice, half a stroke from his own undoing, giving in to the eroticism of bringing about his own demise while his lover does nothing.

His breath hitches, mindless.

"Stop."

The words cut through the fog. Zagreus halts, fingers clamping down to prevent his finishing. He successfully muffles a keening cry at the denial, at the cost of the skin of his lower lip.

Panting, trembling, he pulls his hand away and looks up at Megaera, weakly.

"Y-Yes, ma'am?" Zagreus manages, brainpower drained by the effort of keeping his hands off himself. The nectar is still tingling against his skin.

Her yellow eyes are sharpened spearpoints, pinning through him down and slicing him to pieces.

"You're not allowed to continue until I give the word. Understood?" she demands. Her voice is clear as ever, but Zagreus recognizes the slight twitch in her hot-pink lips.

Zagreus nods. He tastes the blood from his lip; it's a good grounding sensation.

Megaera doesn't take her eyes off Zagreus as she shifts on the bed, tugging her leggings down just past the hem of her skirt.

Zagreus watches, entranced, as she drizzles nectar onto her fingers. His head cocks in befuddlement, the kind of stupefied confusion of a dog in training.

Megaera grates out something like a chuckle. "You haven't earned back the right to touch me yet, Zagreus. Sit still and behave yourself."

His mouth forms a small _oh_ as his addled brain sorts out the implication, and he finds himself speechless.

Megaera's hand **—** her strong, nimble blue hand **—** disappears up under her skirt. She bites her lip in focus for a moment before her leathery black wing jerks involuntarily. A brief shudder passes over her as she finds the right angle.

"Look at you," she snickers, voice faltering slightly. "Finally learning some patience, Prince? It's about time."

The harsh edge in her voice has Zagreus wishing his hands were bound so he wouldn't have to rely on his waning self-control. As if pulling him back from the edge wasn't mean enough.

What a sight he must be, Zagreus thinks a little vainly, for her to be looking at him like that, feasting on the sight of him. Seeing her touch herself **—** the way _she_ likes it, the way _she_ takes care of herself **—** while he's unable to do anything, or touch himself in kind, is a delicious new kind of torture.

Zagreus aches. He displays himself as much as possible, biting his lip the way he knows she likes, keeping his thighs parted and torso long. His skin is hot with crimson blush, chest rising and falling in breaths that refuse to stay even. He's slick and shiny with nectar, with faint whip marks still visible underneath, half-healed and still wonderfully sore. His cock is flushed and heavy, practically throbbing, practically dripping. It takes every ounce of his effort not to finish himself, instead using his hands to keep his balance in the compromising position.

Megaera's cheeks darken to indigo. She shifts her position to gain some leverage, hand working in eager motions that are carefully hidden by her skirt. Zagreus desperately wishes to have his head between those thighs, to be used for her pleasure, to be good for her. 

Her tempo becomes irregular despite her best efforts, and Zagreus sees her pink nails grip tight to the bedding, the way she usually does to his skin. He digs his nails into his legs to simulate the feeling, to give himself _something_.

Zagreus cranes his head to catch a small glimpse between her legs. 

She notices. Faster than Zagreus can track, she plants her foot to his shoulder and forces his head to the ground without so much as pausing her self-pleasuring.

"I never said you were allowed look," she says, and her voice hitches.

Megaera stiffens and gasps. Zagreus fucks into his damp thighs hopelessly, helplessly, to relieve some of the pressure. He wants to see her undoing; see the way her wing twitches, the way her eyes flutter shut. 

The friction isn't enough, and he's glad it isn't enough, because he doesn't want to disappoint her. Face-down and struggling to keep his wits about him, Zagreus listens in agony as Megaera lets out a string of hushed swears. Her body convulses again as she comes a second and third time, and he just barely catches her final breathless exclamation: _Zagreus_.

Pride blooms in Zagreus' chest. He was _pleasing_ to her. 

After a brief pause, Megaera nudges Zagreus back to a sitting position. She's mildly disheveled, still slightly flushed, elegant hair mussed. Zagreus doesn't take the view for granted; no other being, mortal or otherwise, has been allowed to see her like this.

But the hungry look hasn't left her eyes, and Zagreus is still burning up.

Slyly, Megaera withdraws her hand from under her skirt, revealing wet fingers.

Zagreus groans, woozy.

She leans forward, hand outstretched. "Suck."

She doesn't have to tell him twice. Zagreus takes the fingers into his mouth eagerly, laving his tongue obscenely around her digits, relishing the sharp taste of her release.

He licks enthusiastically, not bothering to be careful of her sharp nails even as they cut his tongue. Her skin is cooler than his, ambient and clammy like the depths of Tartarus from which she was born. He suckles, feverishly, adoringly, the way he wished he could on the rest of her.

"You're pathetic," she chides. "What would your father's wretches think of you now, Zagreus?"

Zagreus trembles, eyes wide. He chokes out a keening sound around her fingers. She yanks them out of his mouth, wiping his saliva across his reddened face. 

Megaera tuts fondly as she sits back on his bed. "Listen to you. The fearsome Prince of the Underworld, whining like a little bitch."

Every insult is another blow, another nudge toward the edge. Zagreus digs his nails into his thighs. 

"M-Megaera, please," he begs.

"Speak to me in complete sentences, Prince."

He wishes he could scream. "Megaera, please, I can't," his words come out as a stuttered slur, "I can't take much more."

"Yes, you can," she says, tossing her hair. "You died to me three times before beating me. You're going to deny yourself three times before finishing. You've done it once so far."

She is unrelenting. Scrutinizing him like he's something to be pitied, or punished.

His feet are burning him. He's drawn taut as a bowstring. He's shivering, bleeding, and sweating.

Zagreus _missed_ this.

Obediently, he takes himself in hand again, hips thrusting involuntarily despite his weak grip. He gives himself four slow strokes before his fist tightens despite him. His thighs tense. The heat coiled in the pit of his stomach is maddening. He arches, trembling, and stops hastily.

"Meg-aera," he pleads, lust-wrecked voice cleaving her name in half as he manages another half-stroke. It hurts in the best way possible.

Megaera considers him with a stern glare from her perch on his bed. It's not fair, the way she drags him on after she's already done.

He wouldn't have it any other way. Strung out like some erotic bastardization of Tantalus, Zagreus waits for permission.

"Two," Megaera says.

Zagreus scratches at his thighs, pain standing in for pleasure. His eyes screw shut, half holding his breath as he struggles not to finish prematurely.

The stroke is agonizingly slow, but to go any faster would be forfeit. His whole body is on fire, mind nearly blank beyond raw need **—** the need to make Megaera happy, and the need to give in to his base urges.

He finds an unhealed whip wound and pinches it; the shock of pain is enough to keep him lucid. 

He wheezes and suffers through two more short pulls, punctuated by a firm grip at his base, just barely in time to stop himself. Precome drips down his cock.

The sound that comes out of him is apparently humiliating enough that Megaera takes pity on his tremoring body.

"Three," she counts.

Zagreus looks to her through bleary eyes, holding off until she gives the final word.

Megaera holds him there, on the edge. The intensity of her stare is nearly enough to undo him at this point. Her freed hair, her muscular and still-clothed body, the amused barely-there smirk on her hot pink lips. 

" _Please_ ," Zagreus pants, ragged and wrecked.

No clever comebacks, no witty banter; the Fire-Stepping Prince is reduced to begging on his knees.

They both missed this.

Megaera sits forward, imposing. "Come, Zagreus."

Zagreus does. He finishes hard, spilling down his hand and across his thighs and all up his stomach. He barely stifles his garbled cry, a desperate amalgamation of " _I love you_ ", " _Megaera_ ", and " _thank you_ " in one senseless slur.

He crumples into an undignified heap, gasping.

In the comedown from his ecstasy, he's vaguely aware of Megaera standing up from his bed and cleaning herself up.

He's just regaining his senses when Megaera loops one arm under his neck and the other under his knees. She lifts him with ease, careful of his flaming feet.

" _Wow_ ," Zagreus says dumbly, limbs still leaden as she lays him on his bed. "Do you suppose I should be thanking Aphrodite or Ares for that one?"

Megaera smirks. "I don't know, Zag, did that feel more like love or war to you?"

He chuckles softly, then winces, still sore and bruised. "Um, Meg, I...what I'm trying to say is, are you...are we good, or..?"

Zagreus looks up at her, openly hopeful. Her stern face is softened somewhat.

Megaera gifts him a gentle kiss on the forehead. His heart flutters. "You ask too many questions, Zag. But yes. I'd say we are again, for now. But if you tell another soul, I'll kill you, understand?"

He holds back on a joke about his lack of door, instead struck by a bout of guilt. His eyebrows knit. "But...no, wait....not even Than...?"

"Than's not an idiot. He wants what's best for you. And he isn't the jealous type. Besides, I have a good working relationship with him, as you well know."

Zagreus does know. He doesn't envy the mortals that are granted peaceful deaths, only to discover they're damned for eternity. 

"Yeah, but what about you, you're the punisher of jealousy, what if I..." Zagreus trails off. With some effort, he lifts himself to a sitting position. to look Megaera more directly in the eyes.

He loves her. He can see it in her gaze, too, staring back at him, and he can feel it in the marks she's left on his body. But the idea of leaving Thanatos...

Megaera interrupts his ruinous train of thought. 

"We're not mere mortals, Zag. Mortals cling to one another viciously because their lives are short. What do we care?" she says, silently squeezing his hand in a rare moment of softness. "If Nyx has taught me one thing, it's that the heart has no bounds. Now quit your worrying, and get prepared for when we meet again out there. See you around." 

Megaera releases his hand, takes a moment to put up her hair -- a careful, intimate process that Zagreus is happy to watch idly -- and leaves him in his room.

Zagreus collapses back onto his bed. 

  
He doesn't think he's going to do very well on his next run.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! kudos and comments always appreciated
> 
> theres a desert of megzag content so i had to take matters into my own hands
> 
> if there's any justice in this world i'll write another megzag pwp because you can never have too much femdom meg/bratty zag


End file.
